Since he hit the stoves three years ago at Quay, perched atop the Overseas Passenger Terminal in West Circular Quay, the strikingly modest Peter Gilmore has redefined Sydney style. Other top chefs had started to become complacent, starting to believe their own spin. Gilmore, still only in his mid-30s, let his cooking do the talking.

And now, with the sublime synergy of this fine diner behind him, including its stellar wine list and glorious harbour, opera house and bridge views, Quay continues to raise the standard of eating out in NSW.

Quay (like its predecessor, Bilson's) was already a lightning rod for foodies who like substance with their style. It garnered additional attention when it was named the Good Food Guide's Restaurant of the Year in 2003, yet it remains at the heart of a brave new world of dining, thanks to a symphony of textures and flavours and the arc of shimmery water views. It's a place where wine is taken seriously, the service is as smooth as the ironed napery and the food constantly surprises and delights.

Gilmore graces bluefin sashimi with white asparagus, an ephemeral dashi jelly, the crunch of water chestnuts and a hint of nasturtium. He roasts Glenloth squab to match the ambitious combination of a pastilla of almonds and orange flower honey, grilled dates and lemon jam. It's supremely elegant food, always composed and pushing the boundaries, yet never crossing them. He balances his exuberant passion for superb produce with technical restraint.

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This year Gilmore is using elderflowers, Kyoto carrots and pearl meat from Broome. He poaches meats (perhaps chicken in butter), slow-simmers Flinders Island lamb and teases with textures. He teams ravioli of braised quail and cauliflower puree with an impossibly clear, flavour-packed quail consomme and fine wisps of black-lipped abalone.

His food makes the industry stand up and take notice - every chef and his cafe has had a bash at Gilmore's benchmark pork belly and scallops.

His dishes are searingly clever, yet never lose sight of the simple fact that good food should be one thing - delicious. It's not tricked up to be some kind of circus act. The curlicues and flourishes, the rose petals and black moss are all there for a reason - to make it taste better. It's hard to imagine better food.

Gilmore has an obsession with geometric forms. His menu has as many babies as a maternity ward: micro-herbs, baby beetroot, milk-fed veal and sweet young squab. There also can be a child-like whimsy.

His desserts, such as the warm Frangelico and frangipane tart or the stellar five-textured Valrhona chocolate cake, are essential reasons to linger.

It may not be cheap but for food of this standard you'd pay about three times as much in France or London, probably even more in New York. Even by Sydney standards, Quay is still cheaper than contemporaries Rockpool, Tetsuya's and Claude's, with mains in the mid-$40 price bracket (although we baulk at $14 for a bottle of mineral water). It's the place to take visitors, especially from overseas (and especially if they're paying).

It's the place to take Sydneysiders, too, because it has something for all tastes: ogle the view while tucking into poached Casino veal with roasted sweetbreads and porcini cream. Even those whothink they know a lot about food will gasp when dishes open up new, powerfully thrilling horizons.

Quay is also a reminder of just how blessed this city is. The natural beauty is a given - but Peter Gilmore's brain and palate make the sum of the parts so much greater.